


His Girl Tuesday

by Bride of Morbius (scribeofmorpheus)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Adopted Protagonist, Blood and Violence, Butchered Spanish, Car Sex, Delusions, Drama & Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hallucinations, Hauntings, Horror, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Past Bullying, Love Triangles, NSFW, Other, Period-Typical Racism, Psychological Horror, Recreational Drug Use, Slice of Life, Smoking, Strange Occurances, Unconventional Families, Violence, safe sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-07-31 13:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribeofmorpheus/pseuds/Bride%20of%20Morbius
Summary: Tuesday Adams is just like any other regular 19-year-old. She doesn’t have the grades to get into her dream school with a scholarship, is too broke to afford tuition, has a complicated relationship with a boy and slave drives over at herUncle Jack’smechanic shop for pretty pennies and grease-stained fingernails. Everything is normal... except for the things that aren’t -and that doesn’t include having a firefighter father who looks nothing like her.Tuesday has always felt this indescribable presence. It has always been there, lingering in the shadows, haunting her dreams, whispering in her ears during broad daylight. For so long she was convinced she was haunted. That is until a girl with a bloody nose saved her from being crushed by the chassis of a car. As a world with new possibilities opens up to her, Tuesday embarks on a quest for the truth that also sends her tumbling into the darker recesses of her mind.Slow to Update





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This series is slow to update.

** January, ‘85**...

An open can of spaghetti, a bubbling pot of coffee and a sizzling pan were the three key signifiers that one half of the Adams household was awake.

Tuesday moved the spatula around as though she was digging through the strands of pasta to find some hidden treasure. When nothing was found, she took the pan off the hot hob and placed it on another, filling her mug with scalding hot coffee and unfolding the newspaper to do the crossword for the day. As she scribbled in the answer for five-across-six-down, her mind began to fill with static as a disembodied voice screeched in her head.

_"Please, no! Don't hurt me, please!"_

_Shattering sounds of teeth breaking; an echoing sinister laugh; wet coughs and splattering blood.  
_

_  
_

Tuesday pinched the bridge of her nose and drowned out the evasive inhuman shouts with a gulp of bitter coffee. Her temples throbbing something fierce.

"Ughh," she groaned as her vision filled with flares of light, a cold tingling shooting up her spine. The sensations were chased away by the familiar snoring sounds erupting from her father's burly chest over by the couch. His nasal rumble filled the small two-bedroom house with a conjoined dining and kitchen area with a billowing strength.

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered in relief, her father too deep in slumber to have heard her.

Tuesday poured the rest of her coffee into a thermos and washed up the dishes -making sure to put the morning's leftovers in a tupperware box in the fridge for when he woke up.

She grabbed her keys and slipped into her work overalls, her hand almost at the door when she caught a whiff of smoke from the pair of socks on the floor. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Tuesday grabbed her dad's socks and ventured into his room to pick up the discarded clothing left in scattered piles on his bedroom floor, stuffing them into the ancient washing machine before she grabbed his bedroom alarm clock and set it for 3 pm, placing it by the side table next to the couch so he won't sleep through it. She kissed him goodbye and hopped into her crappy jalopy on her way to work.

***

The sound of welding, hammering and an old tuned-out radio filled the grease smelling, poorly lit garage at _Fix-em Up Auto Repair_. Tuesday found the disorienting loudness of the small space comforting. It made it harder for her to hear the voices.

Whilst waist-deep in the engine of a yellow buggy, Tuesday saw a pair of dusty, worn-out combat boots walk her way. A smile creeping on her face.

"Hey, little missy, I'm looking to get a tune-up. Know who I can speak to about that?"

Tuesday removed herself from under the hood and pulled the lever down so it shut with a pathetic thud.

Wiping her hands on her rag, she shifted her toothpick from one cheek to the other, eyeing the man in front of her lasciviously, "Depends… What's the make?"

The blonde tugged on his leather jacket, advancing closer like a hunter on the prowl, "'82 Trans-Am."

Tuesday leaned onto the hood of the buggy, the metal straining under her weight. "Oh! Tough luck, buddy. I only work on real men's cars, like a mustang or a porch." Her tone grew more and more teasing.

"Real men's cars huh?" He took a step forward, his hips toughing her under-thighs.

_"What the hell are you freak?"_

_Wheezing; metal scraping against metal. A club whizzing through the air, flesh pressed inwards beyond where it should; eyes as black as ink. _

Tuesday rubbed at her eyes with a soft mumble, vertigo pushing her further down, toothpick slipping through parted lips.

"Baby," he took her face in his hands, steadying her body. "You good?"

Tuesday clicked her tongue in frustration, "Yeah, just my bloody tinnitus. I'm fine Billy, just a dizzy spell."

Billy scratched at his untended scruff, "You really should get that looked at."

Tuesday rolled her eyes, hopping off the hood and walking towards the work desk area, "Sure, once Jack gives me a raise and I don't need to save up for college anymore."

Billy groaned, kicking his boots as he followed after her, "Again with that pipe-dream. There are more fun things than being glued to a classroom chair listening to depressed old professors who spend most of their time looking up girl's skirts."

"Oh, and I suppose you've got a better idea for what I should do with my future?" Tuesday lifted her eyebrows as she poured the morning's coffee into a paper cup.

"Yeah, I do," Billy leaned against the counter, licking his lips. "You and me, the open road, sleazy motels and greasy diner food."

Zipping down her overalls, Tuesday pulled her arms out of the sleeves, letting the cool air dry the sweat sticking to the hairs on her arms. She huffed, "Sounds charming."

Billy pulled out a cigarette from behind his ear, "Baby, if you wanted charming, you'd be working as a sexy little librarian, shelving books and wearing tight skirts, not beige overalls."

Tuesday popped a painkiller and took a sip of her bitter luke-warm drink, it was as dissatisfying as the quality of the music playing off the radio. Static fizzled in and out and the station's signal kept dropping unexpectedly. She balled her fist and banged on the cheap radio several times until it stopped.

Billy whistled, "You know, on second thought, maybe I don't need that tune-up after all."

A breathy laugh escaped her chapped lips, "Good, because I don't give out freebies." She took another swig. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but… isn't it your day off?"

"What, I can't come over and visit my girl on my day off?" Billy asked, lit cigarette held between his teeth.

Tuesday shrugged, "Your girl, huh?"

Squinting one eye, Billy leaned close to whisper, "Well I figured since friends don't make a habit of sleeping with each other…"

Tuesday punched his chest, firm muscles colliding with her dainty knuckles. Billy's eyes narrowed when he saw her lower shoulder. In a possessive move, he put out his cigarette on the vinyl counter, a black spot permanently burned into it as he rolled up the rest of her shirt's sleeve and moved her towards the light to get a better look at the purple and yellow mark imposing on her flesh.

"How'd you get this?" His voice held an edge to it, thick eyelashes covering his eyes under a dark hood.

Tuesday looked down at the bruise, previously unaware of its existence. With a nonchalant nod, she said, "Don't know. Must've bumped into something."

Billy unclenched and let her arm go, believing her easily. His silvery-blue eyes shedding their darkness in the process.

_"Son of a bitch! You thought you could kill me?"_

_The electric hum of fluorescence; the reverberation of shattering glass; a sickly sinking feeling like drowning in tar; cold, frozen-ice cold._

_  
_

Tuesday shook her head, today was one of the worse days.

"You sure you're okay?" Billy questioned, his hand lifting her chin to meet his penetrating gaze.

For a moment she flirted with the idea of saying no just to see how he'd react, but she knew Billy was coarse, lacking a sensitive touch. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he had closed that part of him off, forming a tough shell around himself as a form of self-preservation. That closed-off nature of his brought forth a roughness in him that had initially drawn Tuesday to him. It made him a great distraction and a great lay. And right now, she felt desperate for an escape.

Licking her lips, Tuesday leaned in close to nibble at his parted lips. At first, he didn't move, he simply let her lavish his mouth with her tongue. Then with a pleased groan, Billy wrapped his hands around her midriff and pulled her into a deep kiss.

_"You'll pay for tha--"_

_Quiet: empty, hollow… free._

_  
_

Tuesday let out a thankful gasp when the voices died out. Looking up she noticed Billy's pupils had diluted with hunger, the saliva on his lips making them shine like a well-maintained paint job.

"Your house empty?" he asked.

"Uh-uh, my dad had a late shift, he'll probably still be there."

Billy's nostrils flared as he let out a deep exhale at the anti-climax.

Tuesday's lips curled upwards at the prospect of an alternative, "What about your car?"

"You read my mind."

"Juan, I'm heading out for an early lunch!" Tuesday shouted at the man in the back office.

"Is Jack, Jack! We're open. Only Juan after closing!" Her boss shouted back with a thick Puerto Rican accent.

"Right, sorry Jack!" Tuesday corrected and Billy scrunched his eyebrows together.

***

Billy's strong grip directed Tuesday in the backseat of his car. Seat buckles, cassette covers and random junk food wrappers pressed into her back, the sound of rustling filling in between the moans and pants.

"Fuck," Billy grumbled as he had issue unbuttoning his tight jeans, his erection bulging against the frame hugging material.

Tuesday giggled as she ran her fingers up his thighs, across his bulge and towards his button.

Billy bit his lip, savouring her exploring touch. With a satisfying pop, his jeans were loosened and he pulled them down to his knees. With greedy fingers, Billy yanked down Tuesday's overalls and pulled her bra over her breasts until it rested just shy of her neck.

Tuesday's open palm pressed against his exposed abs, halting Billy's efforts to undress her. Sighing, he asked, "What is it?"

"You got protection, Romeo?"

Billy riffled through his pockets and a frown grew over his heated gaze, "Son of a bitch!" The muscles in his jaw started working before they uncoiled and his eyes widened at the glovebox.

Reaching over, he pulled out all the cassette's and spare change and moved a hair comb out of the way until he spotted a golden wrapper.

The condom unrolled over his dick with a slapping noise, Tuesday giggled as Billy's face contorted into a painful pursing of his lips for a brief second.

"That wasn't funny," Billy grumbled as he leaned over her.

Tuesday wiggled out of her panties before wrapping her legs around his back, "It was a little funny."

What followed after was a reel of thrusts, hair tugging, gasps and suckling kisses peppered around Tuesday's neck and collarbone. Billy's hips began to sputter as he neared his climax, his thumb adding delicious pressure on Tuesday's clit as her walls undulated and contracted around him. Semen filled the condom and the both of them lay limp in his backseat, the fogged up windows obscuring the ugly view of the garage's empty parking lot.

Tuesday patted Billy on the back, "Nice work, lover boy. I needed that."

Billy's chest vibrated as a bemused laugh tickled her ears, "I don't know about you, but after this work out I could use a bite to eat."

"Food sounds divine right now."

Billy kissed the corner of her eye that folded slightly, pulling himself from inside her, "Fries?"

Tuesday nodded.

***

"What was with that ‘Jack not Juan’ stuff earlier?" Billy dipped two fries in ketchup while Tuesday slurped up her coke through a red and white straw.

"Mmm, its stupid but it's sort of a sales thing. Jack noticed a bump up in his commissions when people thought the owner of _Fix-em Up_ was named _Jack_ and not _Juan_, so he stuck with it."

"You're right, that is stupid."

"C'est la vie."

In the corner of her eye, Tuesday noticed a family of six sitting in a booth by the window. The neon open sign bathing all four kids in bright magenta. One of the kids looked up at her and pulled at his eyelids, tongue sticking out. His mother, noticing this, pulled him by the ear and scolded him in stern whispers.

"Fucking brats," Billy murmured as he lounged deeper in the seat.

Tuesday redirected her gaze to the humming florescence above, "C'est la vie."

***

After her lunch break, Tuesday rapped on Jack's door with a take-out bag in hand, loud Cuban music playing from within.

"Si?"

Tuesday opened the door halfway, "Lunch."

"Ah, gracias."

"De nada."

Jack beamed her a thankful smile, "You finish with the bug?"

"Mmm, almost, just need to oil her up and check the brake line."

Jack gave her a thumbs up, "Okay."

"Did Sam fix the gato?"

Jack looked at her with a confused expression, mustard on his cheek from the burger, "The cat?"

Tuesday slapped her palm on her forehead at the obvious linguistic slip-up before making a cranking motion with her hands, "The jack."

"Ah, the gato!" Jack said in recognition. "Yes, he send it. It's in the back. He wanted to charge extra dinero. That Estúpido. I told him I know the prices, he can't cheat me. I may not speak good Inglés, but I'm no idiot either."

"I told you not to go to Sam, he's… a hard-ass."

"Hard-ass?"

"Forget it, I'm going to finish up on the bug."

Jack gave another thumbs up in exchange of words, his mouth full of bread and meat.

_The burn of liquid cascading down a dry gullet leaving behind a buzz of alcohol assimilating through veins; a rapid heartbeat; tingles of adrenaline swirling in an intoxicating downward spiral._

_  
_

“Again?” Tuesday braced her temples, body swaying yet again. "Come on!"

When the dizzy spell passed, she picked up the car jack and placed it under the buggy. As she cranked the lever, the jack groaned suspiciously. Tuesday cocked her head to the side, taking a step back and eyeing the jack to see if it would hold. Despite the alarming groans, the car didn't move an inch.

"Sam, you better have fixed it like you said," she thought aloud.

With a gulp of air, Tuesday pulled the creeper to her feet so she could sit on it, fixing a head torch onto her head.

Using the floor as an oar, Tuesday rolled herself under the car and started working underneath the car.

While she busied herself, another set of tires rolled up to the garage and the sound of car doors being opened and slammed echoed through the room.

"Hello?" A masculine voice called out as the bell dinged. Several smaller footsteps gathered after him in the garage too. An argument playing out between two kids about a film or something other.

When Jack didn't answer, and the bell dinged for a second time, Tuesday shouted out, "Over here. Gimmie a moment!"

The crank groaned again and then a nut flew off its side and suddenly the car started to plummet down. Tuesday braced her face as everything moved in slow motion. When a second past and Tuesday remained uncrushed, she peeked through her folded arms and was shocked to see the car moving away from her body, gliding over to the side where it landed with a loud crash.

"Holy shit," she mouthed in disbelief, eyelids pulled back as far as they could go as she craned her head to the group of people standing by the counters.

A girl with short hair wiped the blood from her nose with the inside of her flannel shirt. The group of boys standing next to her with mouths gaping open -though something told her it wasn't in amazement from what she just saw. The oldest among them rushed to her side, sneakers squeaking against the concrete floor, hands bracing hers as he helped her up.

"You're Steve Harrington," Tuesday recognised him from high-school. "And that's Nancy Wheeler's younger brother."

"I guess we can't pretend to be out of towners," Steve half-joked as he ran his hands through his hair and then around Tuesday's frame in a pre-emptive effort to ensure she didn't topple over from shock. "You're uh… Wednesday right?"

"Tuesday," her voice was soft, bewildered even. Her eyes narrowing now at the group of kids who backed away without losing eye contact, "What…" She looked up at Steve. "What the fuck just happened?"

** _To be continued..._ **


	2. Infectuous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Series Warnings: **This series will contain NSFW, Language, Drug use, horror themes, potentially gore and the occasional racist depictions (because it’s the 80′s people) **  
**  


The plastic bottle pressed between Tuesday's palms shook slightly. The trapped water inside, sloshing against the flimsy material that was pressed inwards -deforming with rounded indentations on contact with her fingers.

Tuesday felt numb to everything. The rapid pounding of her heart beneath her breast reduced to nothing more than a distant thrumming of white noise. The shake in her limbs transformed into a tingle of discomfort that refused to subside. But most notable of all was the outward silence.

There she sat, in a crowded, bustling mall. A dizzying panorama of people laughing, talking, arguing, chewing, stomping, and yet, everything was so distant. It was as though someone had turned the dial on her piece of junk television set and now static was the only thing blaring through the dust-covered speakers. Leaving only one voice to speak up inside her cranium. One confounded voice.

She needed to find her way out of this maze, she needed to return to the _now_.

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi..." she counted idly by within the safety of her private thoughts. Savouring that one truth that still held true. Unless…

Tuesday pried her eyes away from the air bubbles trickling to the surface of the water bottle, placing her attentions on the group of kids across from them in the arcade, "She can't read minds can she?" 

Steve drummed his fingers on his thighs, lips pursed in a half show of amusement and concern, "No," he replied. "At least, if she can, she hasn't told me about it. I don't typically ask too many questions. It makes it easier to hold onto my marbles."

Feeling redundant, Tuesday rotated the lid until it popped off and rolled away, devouring the contents of the plastic bottle as if she'd been tittering on the precipice of unquenchable thirst. It hadn’t helped. The liquid, though refreshing, didn’t freeze up her mind. She yearned for her action potentials to stop racing across her wired synapses so she could stop hearing the singular overlapping sound of her own voice inside her head. The voice kept multiplying into a cacophony, overlapping over itself again and again.

Steve ignored the meandering rivulet of water making its way from her mouth to the space between her breasts –moving awkwardly in his seat.

Tuesday wiped the cool liquid from her chin and the underside of her jaw using the side of her shirt -overalls half peeled off at the waist.

This was turning into the kind of day where Billy's proximity was sorely missed. His dominant nature made him an overwhelming persona to be around. It was demanding and dark, a crack in the universe that led to a solitary grotto away from everything.

Some days Tuesday felt as if she was viewing her entire life through neon coloured glasses accompanied by that electric hum that was always present, even in the dark recesses of her mind. Billy was her sedative. He kept her in a state of euphoria, an enticing escape from her woes.

There were two things that sent her over the edge, into that euphoric bliss she craved. One of them was Billy. The other was the smell of his cigarettes. Lucky Strike was his go-to brand, he always had a burning fag in his mouth at one time or another. It's bitter and oaky scents mixed into a heady blend when it diffused together with his musky aftershave. It was an intoxicating mix. A cheap odour that she'd grown accustomed to. And now she found herself scanning the crowd for puffs of smoke, looking desperately for that distinguishable red dot on a filmy white packet.

"Look, I don't mean to be pushy but..." Steve leaned closer. "What are you planning on telling your boss? About the freak accident you narrowly avoided? Heck, what are you planning on telling anyone, period?"

She almost didn't hear him, his gentle nature was a rarity to her, it didn’t demand to be seen, instead, it whispered. "Do you have a smoke?" she asked, her nails scratching at the mystery bruise on her arm.

Steve's eyes skittered about before he said, "Uhhh, n-no. I'm trying to lay off."

She hissed as she scratched at her scalp, ankles springing with pent up energy underneath the table. "Shit."

"Listen, I know all this can be overwhelming, believe me. But you have to promise to keep this a secret. She may have superpowers but she's just a kid, and all she wants is to have the same kinda life as any other regular kid," there was compassion in his words. The way his tone fluctuated from a serious whisper to a soft muttering informed Tuesday that Steve actually cared for those kids.

She wanted to listen, wanted to be wholly attentive, but she just kept searching for a white stream of cigarette smoke. Her mind drifted away again as he continued his plea: "And it's not just her life that would be affected either. I mean, Dustin, Mike, Will, Max, they're great kids and--"

"Wait, Max?" she careened her head. "As in Hargrove?"

"Y-yeah. You know her?"

"In passing. Why isn’t she here?"

"Sick with the flue apparently."

Tuesday's mouth stayed agape until she caught sight of a man with a moustache sucking in the air through the cotton filter of a cigarette bud by a clothing store. "Excuse me a minute."

She dashed from the table with a near-jog. Butting into the strange man's conversation to ask if she could bum a smoke. When she returned, she had a fully lit cigarette strategically placed under her nostrils so she could be bombarded by the smell. It wasn't Lucky Star, but it was a close alternative.

After a satisfied inhale, she turned to Steve, fully present this time.

"Well?" He pressed after she spent a whole minute just staring blankly at his face.

"_Well _what?"

"What are you going to tell your boss really happened?"

"Jack?"

He was confused by that, "I guess.”

She looked back at the kids all hovered around a Mrs Pac-Man arcade game. "People survive near-death experiences in inexplicable and miraculous ways all the time. Perhaps my guardian angel finally awoke from its slumber. Maybe it was divine providence. Though sometimes it's best to leave things unexplained."

Steve nodded a thank you in gratitude, stress leaving his face with a deep exhale. "Thank you, Wednesday."

"Tuesday," she corrected like it was second nature. "_Wednesday Adams_ was the nickname Tommy H. and Carol gave me in high school."

"Oh," regret was present in his eyes.

"Ingenious, I know," she chortled sarcastically. "Don't sweat it. We were all a little screwed up in high-school. It's no one’s fault I was a little weird too."

She noticed him push back his hair, an old habit she would have swooned over had they been sitting at the same table two years ago -before Billy.

“Doesn’t make it alright,” he said.

“C’est la vie.”

He fidgeted, "I always wondered…" he trailed off, unsure if he should be treading over these particular eggshells.

Tuesday recognised that look. "If my name is somehow a rip off of a popular 60's television show?" she finished his unspoken question for him.

He nodded.

"No," she blew the miniature logs of ash off the table. "At least, I don't think so. My dad says I found my way to him on a Tuesday morning. He was never one for television. I guess it was just another stroke of divine providence is all." she joked flatly before standing from the table. "I'm beat and I feel gross. I'm gonna head out. And don't worry. I'll keep your secret."

Tuesday didn't have the energy to towel dry her long hair, the wetness of it made it look blacker than coal. Her head fell back onto her thinly stuffed pillow, the landing much harder than she intended. She could feel the moisture seep into the cotton pillowcase, but she was content with ignoring the coldness at her back so long as sleep came quick. And it did. She went out like a light.

***

_Eyes filled with terror. A stench of copper and urine turning the air humid. Fear clung around opened sweat glands. A nauseating feeling upturning stomachs as Tuesday's vision was impaired by the spin of vertigo. _

_The unfamiliar room was a striking show of gestating entropy; shadows born from pale, sickly, yellow lights; dust covering every crack and crevice; the smell of gasoline and burning rubber ghosting off a rusted metal drum placed next to tattered and torn couches. This was a den. A derelict place of rest. And someone had claimed it as their own._

_The lord of this domain sat on a leather chair, the whites of his eyes and the stained yellows of his teeth were the only thing visible about him. Tuesday stood under a circle of light that flickered out of beat._

_"Who are you?" her voice came out distorted, a ringing echo that morphed into the voices of others –those she had heard whispered to her during the day._

_He shifted closer to the light. No. It was more like the darkness had peeled itself back, like a cloud he could control hovering around his body. Even with the dark cloud pulled back, he was still enveloped in blackness. It was slick, wet. Like his body was drenched in tar.  
_

_That's when Tuesday realised that here, in this wretched place, he was darkness. From his aura, to the veins around his aqueous humors and the chipped off nail polish on his bitten down fingernails. He was void and Tuesday had unknowingly trespassed into his domain. _

_She was unwelcome here. The weathered concrete walls leaked of despair. Seeping out like a pustulous boil. It made her want to retch. But there was something else too. Something primordial and infectious rolling off his menacing presence. It snaked its way to her through the soles of her bare feet, veins turning black the higher up it climbed._

_Tuesday was petrified in fear as this unwelcome sensation burned at her toes and her ankles and her knees and her stomach until finally, it blocked out all the light in her eyes. She looked down at a materialising pool of oil and what she saw made her scream –only no sound came out of her. Her eyes, they were gone, replaced only by orbs of blackness. She was like him now._

_His body turned to air and mistified off the couch, materialising a second later behind her, the stench of stale beer and cigarettes trickling off his pierced tongue. "It feels good, doesn't it? Rage."_

_She swallowed but her throat remained parched._

_"Do you know why you came to me? Why it was so easy for me to worm my way into your pretty little brain?" He dug a fingernail into her temple, the pulsating vein turning dark, spreading like a stain. "Someone tried to hurt you and you can't let such an injustice go unpunished. You can’t bear it for a moment longer."_

_He appeared a mere inch from her nose now, his eyelids carrying the same epicanthic fold as hers. "Are you going to lie down and take it, like some weak, powerless, frightened little girl who's too afraid to leave her pathetic life behind? Or are you going to give in and do the one thing you've been thinking about since that car nearly crushed you?"_

_His words were a cajole to join him in his darkness. A temptation to embrace her baser instincts. An awakening of a vehement desire. A violent urge._

_Now she was grinning, as he was grinning, their faces mirrors of each other._

_"Atta girl," he praised before turning into mist and tunnelling down to her chakras through her nasal cavity and throat. And then she was burning, a fire burning through her flesh. _

_She was infected now._

***

Tuesday's eyes flashed open, but her body remained relaxed. It was noon, the sun still high up. She washed her face, noticing a dark purple outline encircling her eyelids. Then she grabbed her car keys off the hook, dropping the note that that was stuck onto the pinboard, stepping on it with her dusty boots. It went unread.

The sputtering sounds of her engine vibrated through the entire car. Tuesday set in in park, but kept the motor running. Sam and his brothers were welding off car door hinges, stripping it for parts. The red flashing signpost of their establishment blinked in the back, several bulbs blown: _Carson Bros Metal Works and Junkyard_.

One of Sam's brother's noticed her arrival, peeling back his welding helmet, "Yo, Sammy, we got a visitor."

Sam Carson was not the most refined specimen Hawkins had to offer, and that was about all Tuesday cared to noticed of him. His entire body stunk of sweat and burning, the tell-tale signs of leading a life that relied on scraping by. The smell stuck to him like flies over rot. All his foul persona was missing was that constant buzz that accompanied large house flies.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the _beguiling_ Tuesday Adams," he snorted with a pinch of his nose.

Tuesday bit down on her teeth until they sent trembles up to her cochlear nerve. "Can you even spell beguiling?"

"Yeah," he leered, thumbs in his back pocket. "I believe it goes: B-E-Blow me!" He mocked.

Tuesday narrowed her eyes and he bent his pelvis so he could look at her at the same level.

"Can you even see when you squint like that?" his brothers let out huffs of amused noises and Tuesday balled up her fists. He noticed her fingers strain under her shaking fist and he held up his hands as though he were innocent of whatever feelings of antagonism she held towards him. "Oh, hey now. Don't get your knickers in a twist. We're just making light." He propped his frame on top of a newly salvaged JTO. "What brings you to my place of business?"

"Jack brought over the car-jack yesterday, he said you told him you fixed it." It was a statement, but it implied something else.

"_Jack_? I don't know no Jack. You must have your wires crossed honey," he leaned further back with a smug smile on his heat blistered lips.

"Your botched up job nearly cost me my life," she was seething now. "I nearly got crushed!"

"Yeah, well," he pulled out a cigarette from his breast pocket, lighting it with a match. "I can't be held liable for any accidents that happen at other people’s businesses. It's not my fault your boss is a negligent cook. You get what you pay for, and he’s the one who wanted to play hardball. Take up your grievances with him."

Tuesday could feel that infectious rage swirl inside her, her breathing rising and rising the same time her knuckles turned white. She didn't come here to talk. In that moment, she knew exactly why she came here.

In a flash, her hand swung back as she planted her feet and powered her right hook into the unsuspecting Sam's cheek, his cigarette spitting out on contact. Her form was off, sacrificing technique for power and as a result, a cracking sound came off her proximal phalanges.

Sam was sent reeling into the dust, his brothers scattering to come to his aid and gang up on the very riled up Tuesday.

"You bitch!" He sucked on his split lip. "Are you fucking insane?"

He picked himself off the ground and in an instant of red, he struck Tuesday with a heavy open palm. She landed on the hood of the car, trading places with Sam, a gasp of air knocked out of her lungs. She massaged her jaw muscles and spun around to promptly kick him in the crotch. Her fists pressed to her cheeks.

Sam groaned, buckling to the floor again. One of his brothers rushed at her but was deterred from his path by a threatening Trans-Am almost ramming into him.

Billy got out of the car with flaring nostrils and a baseball bat.

"Get the fuck back," he growled as he strode over to her side. The bat pointed at each of the men lick a swinging pendulum. "Tuesday, get in the car."

She didn't listen to him, in fact, her focus was fixed solely on Sam. She made a motion to advance, to trade another blow and this time Billy snaked his arm around her waist and heaved her off the ground. Tuesday was dragged, kicking and screaming, into Billy's car. Face turning beat red from anger.

Billy walked back up to Sam after he locked Tuesday inside, he walked with his usual slow, swaggerful gait. He appeared to be extending a white flag when, without warning, his bat abruptly crashed onto Sam's knee, making him howl in pain.

Billy pulled him by the collar and threatened him, "The next time you lay hands on someone, you better pray it's someone I don't know." He pushed him back into the dirt and taunted his brothers, arms wide open. "Anyone else?"

They all took an instinctive step back when Billy motioned to step forward. He spat at the ground before climbing into his car and speeding Tuesday home.

"The fuck were you thinking?" his voice was harsh as he grabbed a packet of frozen peas from the fridge.

Tuesday stared at her reflection in the television screen, the voice from her dream returning to taunt her: "Someone tried to hurt you and you can't let such an injustice go unpunished."

The cold press of peas to her face brought her back. She looked into Billy's eyes, so filled with anger and worry. Her right arm stiff from the tight bandage Billy had wound around her undoubtedly fractured hand.

"I- I don't know what came over me..."

He sighed, placing his forehead to her knee. "Something could have happened."

Tuesday was reminded of the harrowing image of the car hurtling towards her small frame, "Something nearly did."

“How did you learn to fight like that?”

“I was raised by a single dad…”

Billy didn't move and for a while, neither did she. They just sat there, stewing in their unpleasant emotions until they proverbially pruned.

Her eyes caught sight of the note that had been stamped with a dusty boot print, _"Hey Champ. Won't be home for dinner. Don't wait up. Taking a double tonight. Love dad!"_

Her chin quivered, barely. "How did you find me?"

Billy sat up, removing the bag of peas that turned soft. "I went over to the garage. Jack told me what happened. When no one answered the door I figured, if you were anything like me, you'd be itching for payback. I got lucky." He turned her head to examine the red palm mark. "It won't bruise."

Tuesday noticed he sported a new bruise beneath his shirt, she trailed a finger over it and he shivered, biting down hard. "How'd you get this?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me."

Billy held her gaze, and now she was reminded of their proximity. Of the cheap aftershave and cigarette smell that turned her limp. She pulled him close, savouring the feel of sedation. And then her lips found the sensitive stop of flesh behind his ear and he groaned, fingers digging into her back.

Without a word or look or a warning, Billy pulled her off the couch and carried her towards the bedroom where he proceeded to fuck her against her old, creaking dresser -the wood groaning and legs lifting from his fevered intensity. Their kisses all tongue and teeth and with no propriety -it was a primal instinct fuelled by heat and savagery. When he flipped her over and backed her into a wall, legs locked around his waist while he increased the power of his strokes, he noticed her hand had been kept over the bruise she had seen earlier. Her unintelligible whimpers fuelling him to go even deeper -harder. When he came, he had pulled out just in time. They leaned against the wall, ragged breathing, raspy voices and aching limbs. He watched his cum slide down the length of her inner thigh, waiting for it to reach the dip in her knee before he let her drag him to the bathroom.

That night, as he held her in his arms, he couldn't help but notice that the purple-bluish marks had almost faded into the yellowish-brown of a nearly healed bruise. Billy ignored the strangeness behind the colour change and focused on smoothing the raw skin of her cheek as she let out small breaths through lips agape.

***

_Tuesday was drawn back into the dreamscape from before, but this time it wasn't drowning in darkness. The red and orange hues of the sunset covered the room in orange paint. The man from before looked less animalistic and spectral. He resembled a simple human now._

_He held a bloody bat over his shoulder, the plasma smearing onto his wrist as he craned his neck to the side and side-stepped so she could see the fruits of his depraved labours. On the ground, a man in a security guard uniform lay barely breathing, incisors surrounded by splotches of blood around his face, no longer rooted in his mouth. _

_The nightmare-man turned to her, and with a mockingly high pitched tone, he screeched like a deranged parrot, "What are you? Some kind of ffrrreeeeeaaaaakkk?!"_

_His yellow teeth in full view through thinly pried lips._

_And then she was forced awake._

_***_

Tuesday grumbled when she was conscious again, an epiphany dawning over her now that she was sober and in full possession of her bearings.

“Damn it,” she cursed as she realised she had left her car at the Carson’s Junkyard.

_ **To be continued...** _


End file.
